“Yes.” She tried to turn over.
“No. Don’t move. I am going to enter you from behind so I don’t squash our babies.”
“I don’t think that is how it is done,” she informed him dubiously.
“Relax.” His chest heaved with more laughter.
She kicked his shin. “Stop laughing at me.”
“Dearest, I am laughing at me. You better trust me to please you.” He lifted her top leg and began to stroke her cunt. “Relax.”
His Dik pressed into her a little way. As she had thought, this position didn’t work. But he moved lower and pushed up. He slid in a bit further. His Dik barely fit. She felt swollen and tight and as if she might explode again. One big hand supported her leg and he rocked slowly forward.
Lights flashed before her eyes. He moved backwards and forwards, inching towards her womb. She forgot about the bed-slaves who must have taught him these tricks and let the sensations sweep through her. His chest grew slick against her back. His breathing roughened. He kissed her neck and blew on it, reached around her and pressed the top of her cunt.
This time she felt his convulsions merge with her own. Darius Einerson’s pleasure was hers, and hers was his. The ocean picked them both up and threw them high into the air. They floated down to land in water as warm as the hot springs of Bradur.
“Sleep, my love,” he whispered hoarsely and she obeyed her husband.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Darius~
He woke so early that the room was still dark. Even his dragon vision could make out nothing in the pitch-black space. He was lying curled around his sleeping wife. She felt ripe and lovely in his arms, and he was certainly ready for her. But he must not be selfish. His Freya was pregnant and tired. She needed her sleep.
He had thought that getting Freya to agree to marry him would resolve everything. That their marriage would make him secure in her love. Instead it had left him anxious and uneasy. He knew he loved his fated mate – that she was the only woman in the world for him. Putting his ring on her finger had bound them together forever. At least he thought it would. But she didn’t feel bound.
Dragons loved forever. But it did not seem that Freya loved him. She liked him well enough, and despite their mutual inexperience, they were good in bed together. Freya was such a mixture of ignorance and frankness. ‘Cunt’ indeed. ‘Fuck’ indeed. These were the old words that a thousand years had rendered vulgar. They sounded strange to him on his prim wife’s lips, as strange as pussy had sounded to her.
Had she married him purely because her brothers had taken to him? It felt like it. On the other hand, he had a lifetime to win her love. Presumably a very long lifetime. When you married a woman who was already eons old, she was likely to outlive you.
He nuzzled her neck. She smelled as she had smelled that first day. Like the world’s most desirable female. Like a powerful witch. But not like a dragoness. And yet he had made her pregnant. She had told him that she could take any form she chose, but would not while she was carrying her babies.
Flying with one’s mate was a pleasure dragons did not speak of. It was too intimate and sacred an experience. But when he was a youngster, he had flown many times with his mother and father and his brothers. He had seen the bond between Mama and Papa. Had felt their love as an unspoken power in the air. He had always expected such a bond with his own mate.
Except that he was unmatchable. Perhaps Freya’s failure to return his love was his own fault? He did not think she was the sort of woman to love him because he had showered her with gifts. Oh, she had thanked him politely enough, but except for the tablet and the book of Norse tales, she had not been really interested.
He fell back asleep thinking of ways to make her love him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Freya~
She was hot. Sleeping pressed up against a fire. No. Darius was holding her. He was the fire. His Dik was hard and hotter still, poking her bottom. She gave an experimental wiggle. Now that she was a married woman, she hoped that she was going to enjoy bed-sport morning and night. She liked fucking. More than she had thought she would.
She remembered women complaining that their husbands wanted to fuck them when they were huge and bed-sport hurt. Or that they wouldn’t fuck them because they spent their nights fucking their bed-slaves. As if there was no way for women to be happy. But she felt happy when Darius fucked her. That was a good sign. She wriggled again.
Darius did not wake. Last night, he had called her his love. He had said he called fucking making love. But did he mean it? Was she truly loved? Had he broken the curse set by Snorre the Thief? Or had she escaped servitude in Snorre’s bed only to fall into the trap set by this dragon she had married?
She should rise and light the kitchen fire and start the meal. But for once her babies were asleep and she did not want to get up. She felt better than she had in months. Rested. Vigorous. Fucking agreed with her. She lay in Darius’ arms and pretended that he loved her as she loved him. His lips began to nibble on her neck. Her whole spine tingled.
“Good morning, wife,” he mumbled. “Did you sleep well?”
She had. She said so. “Would you like to make love?” he asked softly as if he too heard Brand and Valdar moving about.
“The sun is already up,” she said.
“I think we are entitled to a little honeymoon,” he countered.
She had forgotten. For the space of a moon, a new married couple could slip away as often as they wished without being censured. Although they would be the subject of ribald jests because of it. Surely Brand and Valdar would not mock their sister? Except that they had made merry at her expense at last night’s wedding feast.
“Your brothers have gone sailing,” Darius said as if he had read her mind. He poked her with his thing.
“All right.” She flopped onto her back.
Darius picked up one of her braids. “What is going on?” He leaped from the bed as if it had caught fire and opened the shutters on her window. He knelt beside the bed, his hands framed her face. “What have you done?” he cried.
“Nothing,” she said. What was the matter with him?
“Freya,” he said sternly. “How old are you?”
“Older than you.” He knew that. Or did he? Had she told him about how Snorre had killed her father and stolen her sisters?
“I know that. But this morning you do not look older. Freya, dear heart, I love you. You do not have to pretend to be a young girl. Truly. I married you as you are. There should be no pretense between us.”
What was he talking about? She looked at her braid. It was bright red. She gazed at her hands. They were back to being youthful, the wrinkled skin and age spots had vanished. Her spell had broken in the night. That had never happened before.
Yet Darius did not seem pleased to discover his bride was young. He looked sorrowful.
“I was seventeen when Snorre the Thief cursed me to live forever until I won the heart of a dragon.” She pulled herself to sitting and tucked the blankets around her. “`Twas a spell I put on myself to appear aged. This is my true form.”
“Oh.” He sat down on the floor looking puzzled.
“Did you love me for my gray hair and wrinkles?” she asked.
“No. But I didn’t know that you were deceiving me. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Don’t you trust me?”
“Wouldn’t you rather have a young and beautiful wife?”
“I would rather have a wife who loves and trusts me,” he said sadly.
Suddenly she understood. “I have been testing your heart,” she said. “I wished to be married for love, and not for the gold in the Pool of Loki.”
“What gold? What is the Pool of Loki?”
She explained about the pool high in the mountains where she had made offerings for a thousand years and seen her visions.
“But when Snorre tried to steal from Loki, nothing happened. Neither he nor his brothers were struck by lightning. They sailed away with my sisters
, and left me to live forever on Balder,” she finished.
“Until a dragon lost his heart to you?”
“Yes.”
He pulled her to her feet. “You are loved, Freya of the long hair. I loved you when you looked old. I will also love you with the face and body of a girl.” He chuckled. “No wonder that from the moment I first woke by your fireside, my dreams have been filled with a red-haired beauty.”
“Truly?” She suddenly felt shy and dressed herself at once.
“Truly. I have felt endlessly guilty for dreaming of a young girl, when my heart was given to another.” He kissed her just as gently as he had before. “You taste the same, Freya. Now that we are wed, do you think you will learn to love me?”
He was serious. “Do you not know that I love you? Do you think I would have lain with you if I did not? That I would have married you without love?”
“I wondered,” he said.
“Would you truly rather be married to an old woman?” She had to know.
“I do not care what you look like, as long as you love me. I found you beautiful when you pretended to be an old woman. And you must know that in your own form you are as fair as the goddess you are named for.”
“I love you, Darius Einerson. Do you feel that?” The ice that had encased the island for a thousand years melted in the morning sun, and she and her brothers were released from the curse of Snorre.
“I felt nothing.”
“Balder is free of all enchantment. My brothers will sail far this morning – they may not return for days.”
“I believe you, dearest. But I felt nothing.” He laid his hands on her belly. “I am glad you did not lie about this.”
Doubt rose again. “Do you love me because I am going to have your babies?”
“Yes. As I hope you love me in part because I fulfilled your wish to be a mother. But mostly because of your wisdom and courage.” He kissed her again. “Your brothers are sailing. Will you take advantage of their absence to make love? Or are you still tired?”
Her heart overflowed with happiness. She realized that, for the first time since she had sent Darius away in the coracle, she felt well and strong. “In the pink room?” she asked.
He picked her up and spun her so that her red skirts flew out in a wide circle. “Anywhere at all, my love, as long as you are happy.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Winter Solstice
Darius~
“Do you think the girls will be okay with my mother for an hour?” Darius asked Freya.
She did not look like a woman who had given birth to triplets three days ago. She looked rosy and strong and was apparently refreshed by her labor. Her incredibly swift labor.
“They will probably be fine, I’m not sure I will,” she said. She looked apprehensively at the three tiny cradles where their flannel-wrapped babies were sleeping.
“We won’t go far,” he promised. “But I think you need some fresh air.”
“I know you, Darius Einerson.” She narrowed her green eyes. “It is not fresh air you want.”
“Considering, my dear wife, that you were as eager as me right up to the last moment, I don’t think you will find waiting for six weeks to make love any easier than I will. I said fresh air, and fresh air is what I meant.”
“Very well. Should I put a sleeping spell on them? Otherwise Elsa will be awake and wanting to be fed.”
Darius looked fondly at his firstborn. She was the most demanding of the babies. Like her sisters, she had a cap of reddish-blonde curls and plump pink limbs. But unlike them, she was always hungry. Hilde and Gerta had to be woken up to nurse.
He shook his head. “My mother will cope.” It had been a relief to see the friendship that had blossomed between his mother and his wife. Hedda had taken to Freya enough so that she had come for the birth and intended to stay to help with the triplets.
“It won’t stay like this for long,” Freya said. “Hilde and Gerta are just tired from being born. Or so your mother says. Where do you want to go?”
“To the top of the ice cliff of Mount Bradur. Can you wish us there?”
“Of course. But it will be freezing up there,” she warned. “The sun will not rise today.”
“I’ll keep you warm, beloved.”
She rolled her eyes but waved a hand and dressed them both in heavy pants and hooded parkas. She blinked and they were being scoured by a gale on Mount Bradur. “Why are we here?” she asked over the wailing wind.
“I need to fly with you. I am going to shift. You make a saddle and harness and ride me.” This was his last hope for achieving the union of souls with his fated mate that his dragon nature craved. As close as they had grown while they waited for their daughters to be born, something was still missing.
“I warn you, if the wind is too cold, I’m going home. Could we not wait until spring?”
When you had lived through a thousand winters, he supposed that they passed quickly. But not for him. “Indulge me, darling?”
“Very well.”
He transformed into a dragon. Freya looked at him approvingly. He felt his double-headed dong lengthen. His mate did have a predictable effect on him. He crouched before her and waited for her to create a saddle and reins.
She got a strange look on her face and a bugling cry emerged from her morphing face. Her red hair turned into the scarlet scales of a dragon. Curling golden horns erupted from her elongating skull. Golden spines formed a ridge down her back. More rapidly than he could have believed, she was transformed into a full-sized dragoness.
He had been told that a dragoness’ first change turned her into a baby dragon with stubby wings, and a diminutive if lethal tail. Just as his first change had. But Freya was as long as he was, and her wings as broad. Her legs and body were as heavy with muscle as his. Her black talons like scimitars.
He saw no need to wait. He launched himself into the air and soared over the churning ocean. Freya zoomed past him, wings catching the freezing wind. The ferocity of the wind did not deter her. She flew as if she had done it a hundred times. He whistled to her and she whistled back.
As if their dance had been choreographed by a master, they spun and floated in the air, frolicking for each other’s pleasure. Their duet filled his heart with more joy even than he had felt when he caught the first of his daughters in his hands.
Freya was a beautiful woman. She was a beautiful dragoness. He blew a blast of fire at the ice floes beneath them. She gave a brassy chuckle and matched his fire with a gust of her own. They made another circle of the island to admire the slate roofs on her brother’s houses and then landed on the snow-covered meadow behind their home.
“This nakedness when you change is foolish,” declared Freya as she rapidly became a woman again. She dressed herself in pants and parka and did the same for him. “Why can’t we keep our clothes?”
“I don’t know, Freya mine. But it has always been so.”
“Hmph. I told you I could become a dragoness,” she said.
“So you did.” He kissed her. “And now you even smell like a dragoness.”
“I would prefer to smell of roses.”
“You will. As soon as I can arrange it. But believe me, dragonesses smell divine. Aren’t you pleased at being a dragon? Don’t you like being able to fly with me?”
Freya laughed like the pealing of bells. “It was a joy to sail the skies with you, husband. And now I feel even stronger than I did before. And healed of my babies. I don’t think we will need to wait six weeks.”
“No?”
“No.” She cocked her head. “Do you hear that?”
He did. “Elsa is waking up.”
“She will be screaming before we can walk upstairs.”
“I see your hearing has also improved.” He caught his mate’s hand and ran with her into the warm kitchen. He had three daughters and his wife was a dragoness? How could life get any better?
<<<<>>>>
DRAGON ENSNARED
A VIKING DRAGON FANTASY
LORD OF THE DRAGON ISLANDS BOOK 7
BY
ISADORA MONTROSE
Nixie ensnares dragon lord. No matter how beautiful and voluptuous, auburn haired, virginal Iliana is, a soulless water nymph is not what bachelor dragon lord Jareth is seeking. But handsome billionaire Jareth is exactly what BBW Iliana wants.
Can a water sprite who just wants a warm berth, a hard man, and a soft baby, heal a tormented, self-doubting dragon? They say confronting your fears will conquer them. But what if you fear a malevolent spirit that intends to kill you?
A modern dragon claims a water nymph from the mists of time. Laugh and swoon as these two lovers discover a love that transcends time, and unite to defeat the evil that confronts them.
As a bonus, Freya and Darius and her brothers, Brand and Valdar, return in this steamy novel.
CHAPTER ONE
Severn Island
The Gulf of Bothnia, Sweden
Iliana~
The youth was delicious. Utterly delectable. Even more beautiful than the boy that Princess Alexandra had forbidden her to woo. As tall as the princess’ man, but not as broad, nor as hairy. Which was a good thing. Iliana didn’t need a great barbarian like Princess Lexi’s Theo. Someone her own size would be best.
This lad was lovely. A sleeker, less rough version of Viking dragon lord Theodor Lindorm. As golden-haired and beardless as a boy. But not a boy. A man. He moved easily and well, and he had a good pair of legs. He made Iliana’s heart beat like a drum and her stomach fill with fireflies. He dazzled her eyes. And moved her strangely. He was perfect.
Lexi had said she must not ensnare the one they called Gunner. That he was too young. He was Theo’s beloved baby brother. An innocent. Bah. To an ageless water nymph, weren’t all mortals merely children? She wanted what Lexi had. And she meant to have it. Come Hel or high water.
Lexi had a warm house with a bright fire. Delicious meals. A soft bed. A hard man. And the sweetest, loveliest, most darling baby cooing in a cradle. This beautiful dragon lord was going to give those things to Iliana. She was tired of living in the water. Of always being cold and damp.
Dragon Bewitched Page 12